


Wetter is Better

by abbynormalj, Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire



Series: Stories 5001 - 10,000 words [3]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: 18+ characters, Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Fic with a Pic, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Gentle Simon Snow, Getting Together, Happy Birthday Simon Snow, Happy Porn, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Angst, POV First Person, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pining Simon Snow, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Tension, Simon Snow is Gay for Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Smut, SnowBaz, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Watford Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24846886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbynormalj/pseuds/abbynormalj, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire
Summary: [Explicit]18+ Simon and Baz.There is absolutely no reason for him to go into a fit.But he's gorgeous like this, with fury in his eyes, cheeks flushed, looking exceptionally beautiful.I get up and leave for the en suite, with my wand still in my sleeve. I'm going to be wanking, trying to get these images out of my mind.“Where do you think you're going?” Snow bellows.“Where do you think I'm going?”Surely Snow won't follow me inside.Happy Birthday, Blue! (and Simon Snow.)
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Stories 5001 - 10,000 words [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101026
Comments: 10
Kudos: 258





	1. Slip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mybluebucketofsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybluebucketofsnow/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, our darling Blue! You are an amazing person and you bring so much happiness to us all. It's an honour to be a part of your life and call you a friend. We ❤️ You.  
>   
> We hope you’ll enjoy this Snowbaz Happy Porn.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Dear reader, feel free (if you are comfortable with that) to leave some birthday cheer for Blue, who is the kindest person ever. 🙃

# SIMON 

Baz and I are fighting in our room. I'm not really sure anymore what it's about. I'm just angry with him all the time. He’s always there distracting me with his perfect hair and the way he smells.

I had been trying to revise for Greek, but none of these conjugations are making sense right now. I can feel Baz’s presence everywhere in this room, making it impossible for me to concentrate. I let out a growl, turning on him. 

“What is your problem, Snow?” Baz almost spits at me.

“You, Baz! Always you!” I yell at him. 

# BAZ

I can't deal with him right now. I was sitting quietly reading a book, minding my own business. I haven't even thrown any discrete glances Snow’s way. There is absolutely no reason for him to go into a fit.

But he's gorgeous like this, with fury in his eyes, cheeks flushed, looking exceptionally beautiful. 

I get up and leave for the en suite, with my wand still in my sleeve. I'm going to be wanking, trying to get these images out of my mind.

“Where do you think you're going?” Snow bellows.

“Where do you _think_ I'm going?”

Surely Snow won't follow me inside.

# SIMON

Baz is not getting out of this conversation by walking away from me. 

But here, in the en suite, I can sense it even more — cedar and bergamot. It's all Baz.

Baz and I are never in the washroom together, it’s too small and we both like our privacy too much. Except I couldn’t just let him walk away from me, let him get the last word, let him win. I can already feel my magic prickling at my skin from how agitated I’ve become.

“Everything always has to be about you! Our entire room _smells_ like you, even the en suite smells like you, and it’s bloody distracting all the time.”

I refrain from adding how it's gotten so bad that now I can't even wank properly without his scent. I had to spend what insubstantial money I had this summer on a bar of soap that reminded me of Baz, just so I could wank. 

Then I had to keep it hidden in my pocket so no one would steal it at the care home. Baz is _that_ inconvenient, even when he’s not around. 

And if I were to let myself ponder this, I might come to the conclusion that I fancy Baz, possibly more than just fancy (definitely more). 

However, I can't let my mind drift in that direction. Baz hates me so I can't be in love with him. I shove all my thoughts and feelings as deep down, as only I can. I'm good at pretending certain things don't exist. Like how the Mage isn't using me for his gain; how people only like me because of my magic, yet don't actually like me as a person; how it's only Penny that truly care about me. 

Pretending is my best way to protect myself from the bitter reality of being alone and practically unloved. Penny is my best friend and that means the world to me. Except there are times when it's not enough. Sometimes I want _more_.

“Some of us don't use school issued soap,” Baz says. “Some of us have sensitive skin and prefer not to smell like an infirmary.”

“That's bollocks and you know it,” I yell, since I'm too angry with him, or maybe I’m angry with myself. Who can even tell the difference anymore? “Vampires don't have sensitive skin.” 

I actually know that some people do. Penny explained that to me once and also suggested I take better care of myself. Which I might have done if I had any time left from concentrating on Baz and following him around. 

He sneers, “Good thing I'm not a vampire then.”

That gets me. Is he using these products just to mess with me? Is that what he’s plotting? Everything smells like him in here and I have a hard time as it is not to think about Baz or how he smells; or how I’d want to inhale him while pulling him closer to me.

I shake my head. Those thoughts won't do me any good. They will only mess with my head. That's _his_ fault. I'm so furious, I want to smash his face for always toying with me. (I might want something else entirely and he's responsible for that too.)

Before I think better of it, I reach out and swipe all of his ridiculous posh products off the counter, sending them falling to the floor. It's not the right way to behave, I know that. I'm too angry to do anything else regardless. That's not true. I'm fairly sure that if I haven't done that I would have ended up punching him _or_ kissing him. (Most likely kissing.)

Both options would have gotten me in trouble. 

“You’re a barbarian!” Baz says. 

I hate it when he calls me those kinds of names, as if I'm lesser than him. I already feel that as it is. Baz is smart and fit, and I'm me. I could never measure up.

Anger is coiling inside of my gut.

I take a step toward him, to get up in his face, to tell _him_ something terrible in return. 

I want to tell him how he's a control freak who can't leave one single thing out of place. It's annoying. Well, with anyone else it would be. However, Baz acting in this manner is endearing instead. More often than not I find myself smiling at his tidiness and his obsession with every subject in school. How he does his homework, not as a chore, but because he really wants to. 

Baz loves school and soaks up all the knowledge he can, even in Political Science where he disagrees with so much. He still reads and learns. It's admirable. (I’m too busy with going where the Mage sends me to pay as much attention to school.)

The way Baz spends two hours in the washroom getting ready for the day should be annoying and laughable too. Instead, I find it cute that he’d put that much effort on himself. Although, I'm not a fan of him slicking his hair back. 

All of these very unhelpful thoughts are invading my mind and I stomp my foot in anger, trying to escape and push back all of that. Anger is all I'm allowed to feel towards him. I watch his cruel expression and can finally accomplish that.

I'm not really watching where I step so my foot lands on his bergamot soap, causing me to lose my footing. Before I can even think about it, I’m on my back staring up at Baz’s smug face. 

At least I managed not to hurt myself somehow.

# BAZ

I wanted to catch him. However, I was well aware that if I tried Snow would assume I'm attempting to kill him and might have ended up hurt. 

That is why instead of doing that, I softly cast **_“Cushion the blow!”_ **

I don't have my wand out so it's far from effective. Still, it spared him from unnecessary pain. 

After I smirk at him, to cover up what I've just done and throw in a sneer for good measure, “Graceful as ever.”

Simon, sprawled on his back looks… well, he looks delicious and I'd want to do so many things– none of which are appropriate for the kind of relationship we have.

Yes, I decided to call this antagonism between us a relationship. What can I say, I'm pathetic beyond reason and would cling to Snow in any way possible. Being his enemy is my only option to be close to him. It's all he’ll ever grant me.

I can't stop looking at him. Simon is unprecedentedly gorgeous, the vibrant pink that starts on his cheeks, spreading as far as the eye can reach (he's wearing a vest top so there are certain limitations to how far my eyes _can_ reach).

The glint in his eye when he’s riled up is almost addictive. He is the fire I always end up coming too close to. One of these days I _will_ burn.

But not today. Instead, I try to school my face to an appropriate expression since I'm terrified I've just revealed my true feelings to him: How I love him and want to tear each piece of his clothing with my teeth. 

# SIMON

Baz always goes for the lowest blow. It's his fault and he knows it. And now he’s just turned his nose down at me. I know exactly what he’s thinking — that I'm chavvy and beneath him.

My magic starts flaring out of control. 

Both the sink faucet and showerhead explode, sending water spraying in every direction. In a matter of seconds, we are both drenched head to toe. Hair plastered to our faces, clothing clinging to our bodies. 

Baz slips his wand from his sleeve, casting a quick **_“As you were!”_ ** to fix the water situation. 

It doesn't do anything to our wet clothing and I finally, after all these years, get a better look at him. 

I feel like a tit this wet. Baz looks stunning, his shirt clings elegantly to his chest. Apparently, when one is Baz Pitch, everything looks luxurious on you. 

# BAZ

Snow is sprawled on the floor and the vision of him leaves my mind in disarray. 

I reach out and offer him my hand. What am I doing, for Crowley’s sake? He’ll never take it, he despises me — every single thing about me.

I wouldn’t put it past him to assume this is a part of my plot.

His eyes lock on me as Snow accepts my help. His hand is warm, there are a few calluses on his fingers. (More than on mine. I play violin while he swings his sword right and left.)

Snow is still looking at me as I help him up. My breathing is getting erratic from his gaze and the warmth of him. It's spreading through my entire body, washing over my cock like a tsunami.

“Thanks,” he says and his voice sounds low and ragged. 

“Happy to help.” Snow’s eyes widen and I curse myself for uttering those words. I should not allow myself to speak this way to him. It's practically an admission of love. It's all too confusing and I try to concentrate on something else. 

After I've been bent over, my shirt is clinging even more uncomfortably to my skin. I can't stand it anymore.

# SIMON

I still haven't recovered from Baz being nice to me, but my eyes are glued back to his chest.

When he starts unbuttoning right in front of me, my mind short circuits. I've never seen this much of his skin exposed. I feel myself going scarlet even more than before. Baz is so sexy, the shirt is hanging loose now, revealing his perfect smooth chest and stomach. 

Baz is ripped. It's because he's a footballer. Athletes need to keep in shape. Perhaps being a vampire has given him an unnatural advantage for his physique. 

I hope he's not cold, wet like that. I could lick him clean of all that water. I want to do that and so much more.

Fuck. I was so mesmerised by Baz’s fit body I hadn't noticed that I'm very hard. It’d be impossible for him to miss. 

# BAZ

Simon hasn’t been able to take his eyes off my chest. My shirt was clinging to me, so I unbuttoned it. His eyes look glazed over, with what appears to be... _lust?_ Could that be a possibility? That he wants me as much as I want him?

My eyes linger on his crotch. Those wet trackies leave nothing to imagination. I can see a perfect curve of his cock. Snow is hard — exceedingly so. There isn't anyone else to turn him on.

Well then, my initial assessment was correct. Snow is aroused by me. This is a surprise since I've spent seven years believing him to be straight. It's a true miracle, really. His hungry gaze on my body is making me feel positively giddy.

He isn't just looking at my chest; his eyes rove over every other inch of my soaked body too. 

When they land on my growing erection he gulps. 

Aleister Crowley, Simon swallowing is a whole production that I can’t tear my eyes away from. It’s obscene, causing me to let out an accidental squeak. 

# SIMON

Baz startles me. For a moment I think he knows how the sight of his wet body is making my cock ache. I'm worried he’ll resent me forever.

Except when I try to look away from his flawless body, my eyes land on his crotch. 

Jesus Christ, Baz is as hard as I am.

# BAZ

I can't let him know how much he's affecting me. However, I _need_ to tell him something. 

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Like what you see?”

# SIMON

Is Baz talking about something sexual?

What would that be exactly? I want whatever's on the table. (I never knew this about myself, apparently I am very open minded, at least when it comes to Baz.)

Unless I'm completely misunderstanding the situation. 

# BAZ

Snow clears his throat, his eyes latch on mine.

I step a fraction closer, closing the space between us. I can hear his heartbeat speed up. Is that nerves, or arousal?

There’s only one way to find out. 

  
  
  



	2. N'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here they are. Those soggy, soggy boys.

Happy Birthday, Blue! Just for you, we decided to get Simon and Baz nice and wet.

[ ](https://imgur.com/7k9mBJK)


	3. Slide

# BAZ

I step closer and dip my head down. (Snow is below me. Always. By at least three inches.) I'm worried I’ll spook Simon and his supposedly, but it seems not quite, heterosexual heart.

His eyes follow my every breath and his head tilts up towards me.

When our lips finally meet, my heart skips a beat. I've dreamed out this moment right here for so many years. I never thought it would happen. 

The kiss starts out slow, as a simple brush of the lips. Even that sends shivers down my spine.

I've never kissed anyone before and my nerves flare up over my utter inexperience.

However, Snow seems to be quite the expert, tilting his head just so, to make my legs practically go limp. I let him lead and pray to whatever deity that I won't fall and embarrass myself.

When the softest of groans escape Simon's lips every coherent thought evaporates from my mind.

# SIMON

I've never kissed anyone like this. I never knew it could be this good, that I'd want it this much — as though I’d break if I ever stopped or if I don't get to kiss Baz again. 

One of his arms comes around my torso and I've never felt this safe before. Which is a bit ironic if you ask me. I know Baz is a vampire. I'm not afraid of him though. I'm not sure I ever was. At least not of him. I might have been afraid of feeling all of this _for_ him. Based on what we're doing right now, I’d say I should have been. I wonder how long he's wanted this? I wonder how long I have?

There are also all these new emotions overrunning my mind. Except they aren't new. There is an array of memories buried deep down in my head that are fighting their way to the surface. How I watched Baz, how I enjoyed it, how I wanted to touch him and settled for fighting since I couldn't let myself have it any other way. 

# BAZ

His lips are warm on mine and all I want is to remember every second of it and be able to savour these memories for the rest of my existence. This might very well be my first and last kiss. Yet I can't force myself to focus. Instead, I feel everything all at once and it's making me swoon — Simon’s lips on mine, my palm against his cheek, his hands in my hair.

Simon’s tongue ghosts over my lips. I've never done this before. Regardless, my whole body is screaming for it — for him. I want to feel him, all of him. 

As I part my lips his tongue is exploring every inch of my mouth. 

I've finally got a taste of what I crave the most. Despite what you might think, it's Simon’s lips I yearn for much more than his blood. 

I might be swooning. 

Perhaps Snow realizes that my legs can't keep me up. He takes hold of my hips and I swear to magic, lifts me up in one swift movement. I may have underestimated his capacity to be graceful. Top marks for precision. 

Who knew he was capable of that. Perhaps I should have. I know he's strong for a human. 

I can’t let him know how good this feels. 

“What is your grand plan here?” I inquire and hope my voice doesn’t reveal that I do in fact not care about anything else other than being close to him.

Snow shakes his head once and then glances to his right. “The counter?”

“By all means. I’ve always wanted to snog on a washroom counter.” Snow huffs and promptly places my derrière on the surface. That wasn’t a lie or me being sarcastic. (He doesn’t have to know that.) I have in fact spent seven years dreaming of all the places Snow and I could snog. 

I chase after his lips, not wanting to be apart for even a second. 

He’s close to me, so close with my legs on either side of him. Snow is touching me again and it’s so good.

Simon’s hands are still on my hips, pulling me closer. 

His lips are back on mine and he’s sucking on my bottom lip. Any inhibitions I had left have evaporated in an instant. 

I take a hold of his shoulders and press myself closer to him, drag him towards me and kiss him with all the enthusiasm I've got. I may have never done this before, and lack his kissing skill, but some part of me knows exactly what I want. 

As I start licking into his mouth, it doesn't take long for the kiss to become deeper, more urgent; as if we're both terrified it might come to an end at any moment. Does it mean he wants me too?

When Simon threads his fingers through my hair and makes a fist, I jam my face into him from sheer pleasure.

His other hand is currently on my stomach, the part that isn't covered by my shirt. He’s rubbing my stomach, and I close my eyes — because it feels good. ( _So good_.) His fingers are moving in circles and it feels marvellous. 

# SIMON

Baz takes hold of my shoulders and won’t let go. I don’t want him to, either. The more we touch the better everything feels. I kiss Baz with everything I’ve got. His lips follow mine and I need _more_.

I’m not entirely sure how to ask for more.

# BAZ 

”We should probably undress,” Snow tells me and he sounds breathless. I don't want him to know how that is all I can think about.

However, it's hard to contain my enthusiasm. All I manage is, ”Oh?” 

Snow blushes and he’s lovely and I want to kiss every inch of his body, or even better — lick.

”You know since we're wet and I don’t want you to get a cold,” Snow tells me even though we both know I don't get sick. 

He sure finds the perfect timing not to stutter. Perhaps pillow talk is his calling. Those few moments were enough for me to gather some composure.

I bite down a chuckle, “Certainly, not getting a cold is my main concern here.” 

I find his lips again as soon as I pull his vest top off. (It was quite the struggle not to tear it with my bare teeth.) This time I kiss him with all the intensity of my undead heart. I'm done pretending and playing games. I want him and despite my better judgment and any preservation skills I have left, I let Simon know just how much I want him. 

I pull him closer to me (as if that’s possible) and relish the feeling of our bare chests pressed together. He’s covered in moles and freckles and I can’t stop tracing them with my fingers. My hand travels across his shoulder and down to his chest, which heaves deliciously under my touch.

I might very well regret it and wake up from this beautiful dream to the bitter reality of Simon Snow hating me more than ever before. 

That's tomorrow's problem. Today I'm letting myself have this — true surreal happiness. 

I continue to drag my fingers across his bare chest as we kiss and the noises he’s making into my mouth could feed my wet dreams for eons. When I reach his nipple, I tweak it between my fingers and he pulls away from me to growl and buck his hips into mine.

His soaked trackies leave nothing to the imagination. The bulge of his cock is utterly obscene, and looking at it wrenches a low groan from me. He must be _huge._ I often imagine Snow running me through with his sword, but I’m suddenly overcome with a vision of him impaling me on his cock instead. Will he ever want that? _I_ certainly do.

I pull him back to me. I don’t just want to see his cock. I want to _feel_ it.

Simon attacks me again ferociously, continuing to grind his hardness against mine. (He seems to be fulfilling my every wish right now. Perhaps I should be wishing for his love instead of his cock just in case my luck holds. Having both would be too good to be true.)

Simon kisses me like my mouth holds a full serving of roast beef.

I can’t believe I get to have this. Simon Snow. In my arms. In my mouth. _Between my legs._

He's overwhelming all my sensations in the best possible way. Every cell of my body is buzzing and feels alive, _so alive_.

At this moment through this kiss, Simon is sharing his life with me. 

Our kiss is getting headier and everything is both better and worse. I’m swooning from happiness. Which isn’t something I am rather familiar with. 

# SIMON

I'm touching Baz’s chest and his stomach and I don't think I’ll ever get tired of doing that. He’s a footballer — all toned muscles and smooth flawless skin. (Too smooth if you ask me. I don't think that comes from playing footie. Maybe he waxes? Or maybe it’s a vampire thing.) 

I've got you now, I think. I finally got you where I want you. I had no idea _this_ is what I really wanted. 

# BAZ

I wanted this for years, craved it — his touch when it’s not a fight, or at the very least not an act of aggression. 

The way we’re kissing. It’s almost a battlefield. There is too much passion and yearning. Do I dare to hope my feelings are requited?

As he reaches lower I feel a slight tremor of his hand. It'd be exceedingly easy for me to believe that the tremor is due to Snow not being comfortable with that kind of intimacy. However, his mouth is just as hot and passionate on mine as before, possibly even more.

I think he might be nervous just like I am.

”Um- Baz” he breathes against my lips. Instead of waiting for his question I moan, ” _Yes_.” 

# SIMON

I'm scared because I have no idea how to do it. I mean theoretically, I know how — I've wanked plenty of times. Nevertheless, I've never done anything with anyone else and Baz is probably experienced. 

”I've never done this before,” I finally tell him. 

I watch him swallow. Is he nervous too? He looks me in the eyes and says the last thing I've expected, ”Neither have I.”

I know it's stupid, and unfair and I don't have the right to feel this happy and yet I grin and kiss him again.

It's not due to me feeling territorial about Baz. It's just if he never did this before with anyone else but he is choosing to do this with me, it means he really cares, that this means to him as much as it does to me. Some part of me must have always known that I am in love with Baz. That’s why I was so obsessed with him.

With that glorious thought, I finally unzip his flies and try to spread his trousers enough to reach into his pants. 

The stupid fucking trousers are still soaked, though, and they keep sticking to everything. 

Why did I have to let my magic get out of hand? I ruin everything I touch. But I’m _determined_ not to ruin this. I feel like I’ve just figured out something big and I can’t lose track of it now.

I’ve stopped kissing Baz while I work on his trousers and he’s fidgeting under my hands. To still him, I reach both of my hands behind him and hoist him back off the counter.

“Oh!” he says in this soft voice I’ve never heard from him before. I’d like to hear it again. Every day of my life, if possible.

At that point, I realize my hands are both fully cupping his arse. I can feel my embarrassment in the warmth of my cheeks, and Baz moves one of his cool hands to my face. It feels heavenly. Everything about him feels good right now.

“Sorry, Baz,” I say, but I don’t move my hands. I squeeze and caress him as he shuffles in my arms. I hum a little and smile into his mouth at the absurdity of our positions.

# BAZ

Snow can’t seem to manage my wet trousers. I shouldn’t find his gracelessness so endearing, but I can’t help it when he picks me up and holds me by the seat of my open trousers, even when he starts to giggle. It’s dreadful and adorable. (Plus, he’s groping my arse. I’ve fantasized about his hands on my behind no less than eight thousand times.)

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” I snap, with much less venom than I intended. His laugh is infectious and I can’t fake my anger when we’re like this. I end up smiling into his kisses as I wriggle half in his hands and half on the counter until my trousers (and my pants with them) are far enough down that Simon can grab them in both hands. He tugs them off my legs in one smooth motion, turning them inside out, and throws them to the floor with a wet splat. (I can’t help but wince.) 

He’s back to me in an instant, his hand falling to my naked thigh only centimetres from where I want him most. Is he still hesitant? He inches his hand toward my cock and touches me, beginning to stroke it hesitantly. I’m in utter bliss with his hands on me, but he lets go of my cock and plants his palm back on my thigh before breaking our kiss again. 

Is this too much for him? Has his compulsory heterosexuality come roaring back to tell him he can’t handle another bloke’s cock?

I am just about to pull away from him further when Snow gets on his knees. He looks up at me while his thumbs massage my inner thighs. I don’t even dare to breathe. I look down at his kiss swollen lips. Am I imagining this or is he about to— 

“May I?” he asks before I get to think properly whether or not he was about to do just that. Aleister Crowley, yes!

I want this even more than I want his hands on me. I want to feel the inside of his mouth with my cock. Which might not sound as erotic as I intended for it to be. What can I say, I have limited experience. (Limited to precisely what has already transpired between us — the snogging and Snow fondling my arse and touching my cock with his hand.)

I take a deep breath and try not to reveal too much while still being flirty, “I love trying new things.”

Was that flirty or have I put my foot in my mouth? Snow smiles, though, and leans in.

When Simon takes my tip in his mouth, my whole world flips over. I never knew anything could feel this good. And him doing this, wanting this — me and my cock — it’s a dream come true. No, it’s better than anything I’ve ever dreamed. 

He looks beautiful on his knees like this, his curls still wet and sticking to his forehead. He moves his tongue around the circumference of my head and begins slowly sucking more of me down. 

I worry he’ll go too far and become uncomfortable, but his erection suggests he’s enjoying himself as well. Maybe not as much as I am, but plenty. I allow myself the indulgence of more touch when I place my hand in his hair and comb it back from his face. 

He moans, then, and looks up at me through wet eyelashes. The vibration and the eye contact in conjunction draw an involuntary whine from my throat. Simon hums at my noise and I can feel the pleasure of the vibrations spread through me. 

“Oh, Simon,” I gasp. I can feel his lips stretch around me in an approximation of a smile. By the time he takes my whole cock into his mouth, he starts humming eagerly around it. I quickly become overwhelmed. By Simon: by the way my cock looks, sinking repeatedly into his mouth, by the way he looks at me as he nearly pulls off all the way to my tip, by his eager expression as he swallows me back down completely. (Does he not have a gag reflex? It seems as if he mustn’t.)

I find myself moaning his name again. His _first_ name. I’m afraid, suddenly: afraid of what I might say in the throes of the most rapturous passion I’ve ever experienced. Already, I’ve revealed to him so much more than I ever meant to. Granted, he is also clearly aroused by this situation, but I’m yet unsure of how much he likes _me_. I’ve set myself up for an unbearable heartbreak.

I try to seal my lips shut, but noises continue to escape me in low, helpless whines as he sucks what promises to be the best orgasm of my life from my body.

He reaches a hand up toward the countertop and takes my bollocks gently between his warm fingers. As he massages and tugs them lightly, he sinks his mouth down further than he has thus far onto my cock, hollowing his cheeks, and finally swallows. My pleasure is mind-blowing and I can feel the impending approach of orgasm.

I grasp his hair and open my mouth to warn him. As my tip passes his throat with a tight pop, my mind short circuits from euphoria and I blurt out, “I love you, Simon.”

Snow’s face contours in shock, and he pulls partially off my cock. My pleasure falls before its peak.

For snakes’ sake, what have I done? I only meant to warn him I was coming. Instead, I’ve said the worst thing imaginable: the truth.

I wish I could go up in flames right this moment. No. That’s not quite it. The memories of everything that happened between us and the sensation of Simon around my cock are too sweet. I want to backtrack this entire conversation just a few seconds ago. 

What is surprising, though, is that instead of releasing my cock and running in the opposite direction from me, Snow keeps sucking me off. More enthusiastically than before even. He sucks me down again and swallows, without breaking eye contact. He’s watching me and the intensity of his eyes are capable of setting me ablaze. He reignites my impending orgasm, and I’m close again, but this time, I don’t bother reigning in my noises of pleasure.

Truthfully, I am not quite sure what it all means. As the pressure in my groin is getting stronger, any thoughts evaporate from my mind. I do remember to _actually_ warn Snow just as I am about to come. I am practically shaking from pleasure and ecstasy.

“I am...close,” I let out as another shudder goes through my body.

Snow doesn’t let go of me and keeps pulling off my cock to lick at the head then sucking it again, perhaps not harder, simply with more intensity; more desire. 

Does it mean that Snow wants my come? I hope he does, but I’d rather not ponder too much on the matter.

Instead, I let myself enjoy him. I tug at his hair again, which he must like, because every time I do so, he moans around me. His fingers are back on my bollocks and his rhythm on my cock is mesmerising and relentless. 

“Simon! I— I’m— ” but I can no longer form words. He engulfs me until my tip is at the back of his throat, repeatedly swallowing against it again. It’s like he’s begging me to come down his throat, so I do.

I come in uncontrollable waves, pulsing into him as I clench my fist in his hair and his throat flutters around me with his moans. My hips twitch up into his mouth as he milks the last of my come, licking me clean as he pulls off and wipes his mouth. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve never felt so sated.

# SIMON

I had no idea I’d enjoy sucking someone’s cock as much as I did. Maybe it’s because it’s _Baz’s cock_. I want all and every part of him and there doesn’t seem to be anything I wouldn’t enjoy when it comes to him. I certainly liked his hand in my hair. Maybe we can try that again.

Baz told me he loves me. Jesus Christ, this is the luckiest day of my life. No one has ever told me that, not even Penny. 

I need to tell Baz that I love him, too. I’m just not sure how to do that. So I get up from the floor and lean into him. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” I clear my throat. My voice is a little raspy from swallowing his cock. It’s pretty big. “We can get curry.” That seems like an appropriate way of progressing our relationship. Or maybe we should have started with a date.

Baz just stares at me, unmoving.

”You can't take it back,” I tell him just in case. “You can’t tell me that you only said you love me because of the blowie. Even if it was clearly a good one.” It’s a bit embarrassing to speak of that. But I do it anyway. I might be blushing though. Baz is too — there is a dusty pink around his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He’s even more beautiful this way and my heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

Baz lifts one eyebrow and looks at me if I was a complete moron. “Fine,” he says and kisses me just under my eye. (I think I have a mole there.)

“I've wanted to do that almost since we met,” he whispers, his lips linger on the spot before they touch mine again. 

Has Baz wanted to kiss me almost since we met? I probably wanted that for just as long...

Baz is so gentle and I am getting overwhelmed with my own feelings. I don’t think I can wait until after our date. I have to tell him now before I explode.

“I love you too, Baz,” I whisper into his mouth and hear his breath catch.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 💙


End file.
